


some people were only meant to sleep together six feet underground

by orphan_account



Series: everybody knows the fight was fixed [1]
Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Murder, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Your son is… Rather off-putting, Mrs Berkman." The principal says. Barry kicks his feet against the tile floor and pretends not to hear her. "He doesn't talk to any of the other pupils, except for his fits of anger, where he screams and shouts at them. It's very distressing for the other children, I'm sure you can imagine."(barry berkman, as told through his fits of rage)
Series: everybody knows the fight was fixed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590982
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	some people were only meant to sleep together six feet underground

"Your son is… Rather off-putting, Mrs Berkman." The principal says. Barry kicks his feet against the tile floor and pretends not to hear her. "He doesn't talk to any of the other pupils, except for his fits of anger, where he screams and shouts at them. It's very distressing for the other children, I'm sure you can imagine." 

Momma looks at Barry for a moment, and then back to the principal. "He's a good boy," She says, almost helpless. "It's not his fault. We're looking into child psychologists, but they're so expensive…" Barry kicks his feet a little harder against the tiles. He doesn't  _ want  _ to see some stuffy therapist in some stuffy office. He wants to play with the slingshot Uncle Fuches got him for his birthday and see if he can peg a bird out of the sky. 

"Be that as it may, Mrs Berkman, we can't allow his behaviour to continue. He'll be isolated for a week, and if it does continue, we'll have no choice but to expel him." 

Those are big words. Barry doesn't really care, honestly. He doesn't care about being expelled, or isolated. So he trots along beside Momma without a care in the world. "Barry," She says, and that's her serious voice, so Barry looks at her. "Why do you shout at the other children? Wouldn't you like some friends?" 

Barry shrugs. "I dunno. Cuz they're all stupid and loud. And they keep trying to grab me and touch my stuff. I don't like it." Momma nods, and Barry takes her hand in his because they're crossing a road. "I shouted at Chris because he took my ruler and didn't ask first. He just took it." 

Momma nods again. "Did that make you angry?" She coaxes, but there's something weird about her words he doesn't like. He shrugs and lets go of her hand to stuff his own into his pockets. 

"I dunno." He says again, unsure now. "I guess so." 

\---

"Mrs. Berkman, this is the third time this week we've had to suspend Barry for fighting in school." Two years later, Barry, at twelve, has still not found a way to sit in these meetings without kicking his feet on the tiles. A new school is supposed to mean a new start, but for Barry it just means more people that bug him and bother him until he snaps. 

Mom looks angry, then resigned. "We're doing everything we can." She says, glancing at how Barry is slumped down in his seat. "We think it has something to do with his father going away so often…" It's not that, but Barry isn't going to argue. He sees the principal soften, a bit. 

She sighs, shakes her head. "This is your last chance, Barry. We expect you to come back to us next week with a clearer head, alright?" She says. 

Barry nods his head, even though he knows this isn't his last chance. It never is. 

"Barry." His mom says when they get outside, and she sounds disappointed. "Barry, why do you keep doing this? I don't understand. I've told you that you can talk to me, haven't I?" 

Barry thinks of Uncle Fuches and the air rifle he had gotten for his birthday. He thinks of the tightness in his chest that loosens when he shoots a bird from the sky or a rabbit from its burrow. 

"Yeah, mom. I'm sorry." He says softly, trying to sound at least a little sheepish. "I just don't think. I get caught up in the moment, you know?" 

She doesn't know. He knows that she doesn't.

\---

"Listen, Barry, I get it, I really do. But you're a bright kid, you've got your whole future ahead of you." 

Barry joins the Marines the second he reaches eighteen. More as a  _ fuck you _ , actually, it seems like Fuches was the one to sign him up, and he didn't have it in him to argue. His mom died when he was seventeen, and Fuches became his legal guardian. 

All he had to do, Fuches told him, was sign the page.

So Barry signed the page. 

He meets Albert during Basic. They're on the beds next to each other, and Barry is quiet, he doesn't have much to say, but Albert doesn't seem to mind. He still makes jokes at Barry, and sometimes they even get a laugh out of him. 

The others in their unit don't really know what to make of Barry. None of them know about his temper, about how he can lose it, sometimes. He keeps it under wraps, makes an effort. They get used to him. Used to his quietness, his little comments, the tiny smiles and the little giggles. Some of them, he thinks, come to cherish them. Albert does. 

Their first tour isn't so bad. It's mostly just them shoved together into small spaces. They quickly learn Barry is the best person to be holed up with, because he's good at poker and won't actually take your rations if you ask nicely, and because he's a hell of a shot. 

The first time he actually kills someone, it earns him such a huge wave of praise that he realizes maybe this whole thing wasn't so bad after all. They get a hell of a ticking off for making so much noise but that night during dinner they all recount the tale to anyone that'll listen, while Barry quietly protests ( _ "It wasn't that far, come on-" _ ) 

After that he gets a weird relationship with killing. 

Because the people he kills. He doesn't know them. It doesn't matter if they have a family, or whatever, because they're really far away and Barry gets praised for it each time. 

The rage feels distant. He doesn't lose it. He sits on top of the Jeep at night and smokes stolen cigarettes with Albert when they're supposed to be keeping watch and starts hesitantly making jokes back with the others. 

Then he goes home, for a bit, and then goes back out. 

And that's when he loses it. Four months in, Albert gets shot through the face. 

( _ "Don't worry, bud, we're gonna get you out of here-" He says, hands shaking as he tries to stop the blood flow. "Good thing these bastards have such shitty aim, huh?" _ )

And the anger comes rolling back in. It fills up his body, hot and dark and rancid, and he barges into a man's living room and shoots him full of holes. They have to wrestle him away, and he howls as they do, fighting against them.

They've never seen him like this. 

A month later, honorable discharge.

None of them try to contact him again. 


End file.
